


Ridiculous Games

by HanginWithLilJ (FlyDizzeeD)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Flirting, Grinding, Humor, Jealousy, M/M, Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 18:00:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17064461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyDizzeeD/pseuds/HanginWithLilJ
Summary: Jeremy and Ryan like to play stupid little games with happy endings.





	Ridiculous Games

There's too much noise, but that's not what's really bothering Ryan.

What (or rather, who) is bothering him is standing in the kitchen.

The party is typical. The usual crowd of employees from Rooster Teeth and the very few people the Fake AH Crew trusts, drinking and laughing and having a time. It's been a few weeks since their last big heist, which means they're in the clear for some celebration. Ryan doesn't mind that. He's used to it by now, even though he does prefer when it's just their own little family hanging around the penthouse. Part of him still enjoys seeing people he doesn't see enough, like Meg or Jon. Watching other people's drunken antics is also pretty entertaining.

So, no, the party isn't what's bothering him.

Jeremy is bothering him.

And Jeremy has been bothering him since the whole thing started.

Watching the other man in the kitchen make conversation with their friends, he knows better than to let his guard down. Jeremy has made the game clear, but Ryan is going to win. He knows the rules. They've played it before.

Repetition never lessens the rush.

It's hard to move without brushing up against someone. Jeremy is capitalizing on that fact, and he knows it. Sees the way the little bastard makes sure he's watching when he gets close to someone else, trips into Ryan in the worst excuse for a coincidence every time they pass. He's going at it hard this time, giving it his all, and that's his mistake. Ryan can play the long game, even if his half-hard cock is already interested by the promise of more later.

He heads for the kitchen, making some excuse about needing another drink to quickly escape his half-assed conversation with Jack. Doesn't see the man roll his eyes.

“Hey, Rye.” Jeremy greets him.

Ryan nods in return, but doesn't make it to the fridge. The younger man's hand grabs his arm, draws his attention.

“Thirsty?”

The soda being held out to him is sweating, still cold. He takes it, watching Jeremy closely.

“Thanks.”

“Wouldn't want your throat dry.”

Yeah. He forces a laugh, figures it's convincing enough, moves a bit closer to reach around Jeremy. That pushes the shorter man backwards and into the counter, brings them closer together. When he pulls back, there's a beer in his hands from the cooler he realized the clever man had parked himself in front of. He offers it to Jeremy, smiling.

“A trade.”

They're close. Too close for Jeremy, apparently, who doesn't respond. Ryan grabs his hand and places the drink in it, closing his fingers around it so he's got a grip on it before he lets go. The cold feeling breaks Jeremy out of it a bit. He looks down at the can. Goes to speak but realizes Ryan isn't even looking at him, leaning over him to look at someone else outside the kitchen.

“Ryan!” Jon's voice. “Get over here, Haywood, I haven't seen you in forever!”

And Ryan leans forward more, like he has to be physically closer to hear Jon's yelling. Jeremy is staring at the other side of the kitchen, eyes set on the backsplash as he feels Ryan's thigh press into his crotch. If he wasn't hard before, he sure as hell is now, hips twitching in their effort to not grind into the pressure.

“Be right there, Risinger!”

Finally, blessedly, Ryan pulls away. They lock eyes again, the bastard smiling lazily at him. 

“Gotta go, Jer. Thanks for the soda.” He says, cracking the can open and taking a swing. Some stupid porn star move, an exaggerated swallow, but it fucks Jeremy right up. But then Ryan's gone, off to shoot the shit with Jon.

He has to fight himself to not immediately chase down the other man. Play it cool. He's got this. Sets the beer down, unopened, and casually leaves the kitchen.

There's music, after all.

And there's Gavin, not drunk but plenty fun.

“Hey, Gav. Wanna dance?”

The older man spins around and grins when he sees Jeremy, eyes not visible due to the gold-rimmed sunglasses he insists in wearing inside for some godforsaken reason.

“Lil J! Finally ready to meet the master, I see.” He says, smirking. Jeremy rolls his eyes.

“Whatever. We gonna dance or do I have to get someone else?”

Gavin's grin is predatory, but somehow still relaxed. He hums, steps closer, grabs Jeremy's hips. The shorter man closes the distance.

And they dance, in the way Gavin dances when there's a party, and drinks, and too many people in one small space. Hands all over, hips rolling, the beat registering somewhere inside them as they move in half-assed sync, caring more about the feeling than the performance.

He doesn't have to look to know Ryan is looking.

Ryan, with his jealousy streak.

Yeah, he's watching.

He's mostly ignoring Jon. He feels bad about it to some extent, but mostly he just feels like he needs to pin Jeremy against a wall and remind him who does him best. Needs to swallow down those noises he knows the other man makes when there's a cock inside him. Noises that he can hear, has heard so many times before, and will never be tired of. The slight space between them, filled with other people, is ridiculous. Their game is ridiculous. But God damn it, he's going to win.

Jeremy's shuddering moan as Gavin skillfully rolls their hips together is audible even to Ryan.

He's not gonna win, not this time. And he'll never hear the end of it, he's sure. But his dick is tired of the bullshit and he can't help but side with its logic, biased to the core.

“Fuck, Gav--” Jeremy's quiet words are cut off. All of a sudden, he's getting further away from a distraught looking British man. Takes a moment for him to realize he's being dragged away. When he does, he shakes his head and looks and--

“Loser.”

“Shut up.”

His feet become more effective as he turns around and walks with Ryan, following the man.

They make it to the hall.

But Ryan has to stop, has to shove Jeremy into the wall. He leans down over him, crowding the shorter man. No time is wasted as he shoves their lips together, the kiss rough and rushed and everything he needs. His hands are on Jeremy's hips, gripping tight with plans to leave bruises where Gavin had held on earlier. He moans into it as he feels hands drape over his shoulders, one quickly moving to grip his hair. The light tug spurs him on, pressing his hips against Jeremy's.

There's a short moment where he pulls away to breathe, but he goes right back to it when it looks like Jeremy is about to gloat again. Puts his tongue to use so the other man can't talk. He feels Jeremy squirming, hears him whine before his grip on Ryan's hair tightens and his hips stutter.

Maybe the hall isn't the best place for this.

When he suggests as much, he receives a frantic nod. It still takes them some time to actually separate enough to move. Ryan's room is at the end of the hall, but it's closest, so they slowly but surely make their way to it.

Once they're in, all bets are off. And so is Ryan's shirt. Jeremy starts pulling it off of him immediately, which makes the older man laugh, because that's always Jeremy's focus. Once the shirt is off and tossed aside, there's teeth on his chest, biting hard into bare skin in a way that makes his entire body jolt. He has to force himself to pull Jeremy off of him, wanting so badly to let him continue sucking hickeys into his skin. Jeremy whines, but gives in as Ryan pulls him to the bed. They're down to boxers by the time they make it, and the second Ryan's sitting on the mattress he has a lap full of Jeremy. It's a pretty great thing to have.

“Your impulse control needs work.”

“It'd be fine if you stopped grinding on Gavin.”

The smirk that earns him is annoying.

“Hey, a guy's gotta get his dick wet somehow.”

Ryan huffs and thrusts upwards, making the man on his lap bounce.

“I think we both know who's dick is getting wet tonight.”

The promise cuts their conversation short, because Jeremy is kissing him again, slipping a hand between them to grab Ryan's dick through his boxers. It pulls a gasp from him, lets his guard down enough for the little bastard to get back to biting him, his neck becoming victim this time. He knows Jeremy's purposefully trying to leave the marks as high as possible because he wants people to see them. Ryan doesn't really care. Plenty of people saw them in the hallway, he's sure. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what probably happened from there.

Hand moving, Jeremy starts jacking him through the thin material. He's been leaking pre for a bit, has always been a bit heavy in that manner, and what soaks through is smeared on Jeremy's hand. His brain is barely functioning, hips rolling into the touch of their own accord.

“Good boy, Ryan. This for me?” Jeremy asks, voice rough and hand tight as he squeezes Ryan's dick.

And, yeah, that does it. He's beyond ready to fuck Jeremy into the mattress, but he's a sub at heart, and his body trembles, heart pounding at the praise. He nods enthusiastically, which makes Jeremy laugh lightly and kiss his nose.

“Then give it to me.”

That's all the permission he needs.

Ryan grabs him, twists, pulls them both backwards and onto the bed. It's easy for him to move them both, well-muscled arms flexing as he hovers over Jeremy, looking down at the younger man who's scrambling for the lube and condoms he knows Ryan keeps on his bedside table. He shoves the lube at Ryan, fucks his hips into the air desperately, shivers a bit.

“Finger me, fuck me, and make it good.”

“Yes, sir.”

Snatching the bottle, Ryan sets it aside so he can pulls Jeremy's boxers down. The man beneath him hooks a leg over his back, opening himself up some. His dick is red, hard as a rock where it lays against his stomach and leaks pre onto his skin. The lid is popped open so Ryan can slick a finger up before tracing around his hole, making it twitch. He's a bit rough as he slides his finger in and curls it, only giving the man a moment to adjust before he's sliding a second in more slowly. Jeremy is panting harshly at the feeling. Moans out loud when those two fingers experimentally scissor inside of him, stretching him out. The noise goes straight to Ryan's cock, which twitches inside his boxers, desperate for stimulation. He leans down so they can kiss dirty and messy while Ryan fingers him open, letting him swallow down those noises her been thinking of earlier.

“Okay, okay, fuck, Ryan,” he whines, “just fuck me, come on.”

He's more than happy to oblige.

His fingers slide out with a wet sound. He pulls his boxers off, finally freeing his dick, and shivers at the feeling as he rolls the condom on and lubes up. Jeremy can't hold still beneath him, can't keep quiet either, so he wastes no time. The wet head of his cock is only pressed against his ass for a moment before he pushes in, giving a shallow thrust. Feeling so good so suddenly is like whiplash, but the man beneath him is still needy, still rolling his hips as much as he can down onto his cock in an attempt to get more. With a groan, Ryan pushes in the rest of the way, shivering as he bottoms out inside of Jeremy and feels the warm, tight hole around him.

“Jeremy--”

“For the love of God please move.”

All bets are off from there. He leans forward, shifting his weight so he can plow into Jeremy. His hands grab the man's legs to pull them apart more and let himself slide in closer, picking up speed in his wreckless thrusting. He's beyond certain people can hear them. He doesn't really care. His balls slap against Jeremy's ass as he fucks him, listening to the instructions he's given and giving it his all when it's obvious he's slamming right into the man's prostate over and over.

He lifts Jeremy's hips up slightly so he can get a better angle. Evidently he's doing great, if Jeremy's damn near screech means anything.

“Ryan, Rye, fuck--”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm doing it.”

The glare is worth the joke.

Jeremy spasms around him, squeezes hard on his cock and steals the breath from his lungs. He's close. He's more than close. He's--

“I'm gonna cum.” Jeremy says.

“Way ahead of ya.” He gasps out, any semblance of an even pace lost as he chases his own pleasure. He cums hard, with a whimper as he shoves his face into Jeremy's neck. The hand threading through his hair helps.

Even after he's finished, he keeps thrusting. He reaches down between them to jack Jeremy off, not moving his face and instead taking advantage of the position to bite down hard on the shorter man's exposed neck. It's not long after that Jeremy cums all over their stomachs, breath cut off while he rides the high.

Ryan collapses to the side of him, pulling out and taking off the condom. He ties it off and drops it in the trashcan next to the bedside table before he goes limp entirely, face down and halfway on Jeremy.

They stay that way for a while, neither wanting to move, but the cum and sweat quickly becomes too much.

“C'mon, Rye, move over. I gotta get this off of me.”

Whining, Ryan rolls off of him and stares at the ceiling. Jeremy thanks him and goes to stand.

The this startles a hazy Ryan into peeking over the edge of the bed to see Jeremy on the floor. He raises an eyebrow and receives a glare.

“Please stop fucking me so hard my legs become jelly.”

Ryan smiles.

“No promises.”


End file.
